


Sheen

by halfpastten



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: (not really but close enough), Anal Fingering, Enthusiastic Consent, Friends to Lovers, It's Basically Sex Pollen, Large Cock, Licking, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mega Garchomp, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, Pheromones, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pokephilia, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Shiny Pokemon, slick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:20:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfpastten/pseuds/halfpastten
Summary: When Clint makes to catch a shiny Salazzle, the Pokemon takes her revenge by dosing him with her Sweet Scent. Not only is Clint suddenly hunted by amorous Pokemon, he himself experiences some unforseen consequences! Can his loyal Mega Garchomp Fenton help?(Yes. Yes he can.)
Relationships: Gaburias | Garchomp/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

Clint knew something was wrong when the Salazzle, startled by his presence, didn’t immediately readied herself for an attack. No, not even with his Pokeball clear in his hand, the Salazzle simply swayed a bit from side to side, her eyes on him as her tongue darted out.

She was a real beauty, though - pearl-white instead of charcoal-grey, with her belly a soft purple with pink markings, eyes the colour of lavender with bright red pupils. Clint, who prided himself for his collection of _shiny_ Pokemon, knew something was up, but - it was too tempting.

So he released the pride of his team out of the ball, eyes immediately drawn to the strong figure of his Mega Garchomp. The vivid purple colour of his hide, paired with the bright yellow patches and the softer pink of his belly were just as pretty as the white of the Salazzle. Both had a _sheen_ to them - more than just their rarity, which was reason enough for collectors to seek them out, it was the pearly iridescence of their hides that Clint admired.

Fenton, the Garchomp readying himself for a fight in front of him, had been his very first after all, back when he’d been just a teen and Fenton a small, adorable blue Gible.

“Fenton, Headbutt!” Clint called out, pointing at the startled Salazzle who hissed at both of them, but still she swayed, moving just enough to avoid the attack when the Mega Garchomp jumped at her. With fluid, sineous moves, the Salazzle slithered away from the Pokemon - _heading straight to Clint_!

It was so out of his experience, he didn’t know what to do. Pokemon _always_ attacked a Trainer’s Pokemon - the sheer presence of them goading wild Pokemon into the fight, if they met as aggressors. Sure, were he to simply walk through the forest without any attention to catch, he might not be surprised to be approached by a friendly Pokemon - even releasing them without any tension might go well.

But in this situation? It was unheard of, and Clint staggered away from her, caught off-guard. Fenton bellowed a warning, already swiveling around to intercept her, but then-

Then she was there, right in front of him, her beautiful eyes shining with cunning, a sly smirk on her face. With another hiss, she smacked her long tail across Clint’s face, pain blooming on his cheek just as the sweet, sugary scent hit him.

The Salazzle let out a triumphant sound before jumping away from a swing of the Garchomp, mocking the other Pokemon with another swish of her tail. Her pheromones, however, were already spent, the scent clinging to Clint’s hurting face and hands as he tried to rub away the spray she’d landed on him. It felt weird and sticky and he gagged on it, his cheek still aching, _burning_ with heat that, for a moment, made him think she’d sprayed him with acid instead.

By the time he looked up, the heat spreading down his neck and chest, the shiny Salazzle was already gone - at least he couldn’t see her, and Fenton was more worried about him than the prey they’d lost.

“Garchomp,” the Mega Garchomp said, all his snarl and bellow gone to reveal the utterly sweetheart nature underneath the tough exterior. Already he was hemming and fiddling around, his arms not made to be comforting no matter how much Fenton wanted to be.

It warmed Clint’s heart like it always did - Fenton had been his very first Pokemon friend, his hook into the world of collecting shiny Pokemon. And no matter how many he added to his team or how much he adored them, the Mega Garchomp had always been his very special partner. To see him worry like this made Clint want to assure him everything was okay.

Only that it wasn’t. The heat did not go, and the cloyingly sweet smell stuck to him, clogging his nose. “I’m fine, Fenton,” he said and wiped more of the stuff away, grimacing at the sticky feel of the spray. “She just hit me with something, but it doesn’t hurt much anymore.”

Fenton made a whining noise, shifting from one foot to another, tail swinging in agitation. Ever so often, he would sniff in Clint’s direction, making a distressed noise as Clint tried to clean himself with a tissue and some water. He felt a bit feverish and since he didn’t know what exactly the Salazzle had exposed him to, he just wanted to go home and maybe see a doctor if it got any worse.

“Better to get going,” he sighed, sneezing at the clinging smell. His whole body had started tingling, which was really confusing. Pokeball in hand, he turned towards Fenton to call him back, but the Mega Garchomp hesitated, looking around in distressed suspicion.

“Fenton?” Clint asked, holding the ball up, and Fenton shook his head even more now. “You want to walk with me?” A nod followed and Clint couldn’t help the swell of fondness he felt. “You’re a darling, Fenton,” he said, voice soft, and patted Fenton’s chest, his fingers lingering for a moment longer before he forced himself to pull his hand away.

This was not the time to indulge his own fancy, even if his stomach fluttered nervously at the touch, even more than he was used to. Taking a deep breath and bracing himself against the feverish heat pooling in his belly, not sure if it was the spray or Fenton’s close proximity that caused it, he turned around and staggered forward, eager to get home.

There, he hoped, he could ignore his fancy better than here in the wild. No need to bother his adorable Fenton, who followed him closely, keeping a look out for any possible danger.

Still, it was weird how sudden the tug of arousal had come to him. Usually he was better at hiding it ever since he’d looked at his Fenton one time and knew that he was more attracted to him than he ought to be. As his trainer, it was Clint’s responsibility to take good care of the Mega Garchomp, not to paw at him like some lust-driven savage. Little touches, as were normal between the too, didn’t normally trigger his secret cravings.

The heat, radiating through his entire body, was weird as well, but then he didn’t know what attack the Salazzle had used. A bother, though, that she’d managed to get away before he could catch here. It had taken so long to find her after following rumours all month long.

Something rustled the leaves close-by, startling Clint out of his musings. Immediately, Fenton raised his head and growled, a low sound that went right through Clint’s ears to settle heavily in his heating cock, much to his shock and dismay. Trying to get his sudden erection under control, he missed the Primeape jumping off a tree if it hadn’t been for Fenton shoving him out of the way as the wild Pokemon tried to assault him.

“Whoa!” Clint shouted and landed on the forest’s floor, a gnarly root digging painfully into his back. Fenton was bellowing now, bristling as he tried to keep the Primeape from going after Clint, who watched with wide, fearful eyes. One time was weird, but two times in a day? Scrambling to his feet, he barely managed to avoid the Primeape who’d jumped at him, trying to grasp the man.

He looked strange, his dark eyes blown wide and nose twitching eagerly, mouth slightly agape. Saliva drooled down his ruff coat and when he made to grab Clint again, the trainer got a glimpse of a half-hard cock hanging between the Pokemon’s thighs, rapidly growing the more the ape sniffed the air.

With a confused yell, Clint hurried behind Fenton, who lost all his patience and went after the Primeape. It was a rough, rowdy scramble that ended with Fenton bodily throwing the amorous Primeape against a tree before grabbing Clint. Throwing the confused man over his broad shoulders, the Mega Garchomp started to run, distressed and bristling.

More leaves rustled around them and Clint sneezed again, the cloying smell still strong on his skin and clothes, and fuck, his own growing erection was pressing against Fenton with each step the Pokemon took and his head was swimming with the heat he felt.

_What is happening to me?_

They made it out of the forest, but not without some more disturbances. Every which way Fenton took, more Pokemon jumped at them, sniffing and wide-eyed and definitely aroused the moment their eyes landed on the struggling Clint. And with each new encounter, Fenton grew more angry and desperate, slashing at the Pokemon to keep them away from his trainer.

It wasn’t until they reached the nearest road that Fenton let go of Clint, who, by this time, was panting and trembling with bursts of heat and aching going through his body. Clint stayed curled up, mostly to hide his straining erection, sweat dripping from his forehead and blonde hair in disarray.

Fenton, sweet soul he was, crouched close to him, making distressed noises as he tried to sooth Clint’s fraying nerves.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Clint managed to gasp. Everytime Fenton touched him, it was like a small fire blossomed at the spot. He barely swallowed a moan, biting his lips. This was bad, really bad. What did the Salazzle do to him? “Home,” he finally croaked, even when he nearly came just from being hoisted up onto Fenton’s arms. His hands were fisted against his crotch to not show how very hard he was and he was hot all over and now he was carried, bride-style, by his best friend and secret crush, smushed against Fenton’s chiseled chest, and he wanted to _touch and kiss and hump_ , more than he ever wanted in his dreams when he couldn’t help but touch himself, hand on his cock and stroking while thinking of how it would be, to kiss Fenton, to fuck him, to-

Groaning, Clint threw his head back and closed his eyes, sucking in the cool air in hopes it would help. But it didn’t - the sweet smell stung in his nose, but stronger yet was Fenton’s own odor and the feel of those muscles moving so close.

“Hurry, _please_ ,” Clint pleaded, not wanting to lose his mind and do something unforgivable with his Mega Garchomp. Fenton, clearly worried to the point of panicking, started to run again, pulling him tight against his body.

Fenton, too, felt hot to the touch, and before Clint could control himself, he was pressing a kiss against the pink of his chest, softly moaning from the taste alone when he ran his tongue across the tough hide.

He barely noticed the stumble of Fenton’s steps, or the way he doubled his speed in oddly-wide half-jumps. It did manage to get them home sooner than later, however, and the moment Fenton brought them through the fence gate and onto Clint’s property, it didn’t take long for his other Pokemon to take notice of the pair.

Clint still had problems concentrating on more than the press of Fenton’s skin against his body, but he did notice how his faithful friends kept a distance to them, despite their obvious worry. Keening and distressed noises managed to attract his fuzzy attention enough that he blinked in feverish confusion.

There they were, surrounding Fenton and him as the Mega Garchomp shuffled into the house, but his shiny Pokemon didn’t dare come too close. Maybe he was sick, maybe he was dying. What if he endangered Fenton, too?

Before he could put his own worries into words, Fenton placed him onto his bed, cooing worriedly as he tried to tug on Clint’s clothes. But while he could flatten his spikes against his body to not injure his trainer, Fenton’s arms were made like blades, with no fingers or paws or claws. All he could do was shuffle closer and nose against Clint, which had the man moaning with want and heat and rippling pleasure.

It made it so hard for him to concentrate, to keep in mind that _he could not fuck Fenton, he could not._

“Wait- wait outside, Fenton,” Clint gasped and closed his eyes, sucking in more air to cool himself down. “I don’t want you to get ill, too.”

It was a direct order, one Fenton couldn’t ignore. It almost physically hurt, seeing him go, but Clint had to send him away. The moment the door closed and he was alone in the master bedroom, he tore away at his shirt and trousers, fingers digging into his own naked skin, slick with sweat. His cock was so hard it hurt to even touch it, but touch himself he did, wrapping a hand around his cock and pumping frantically, thrusting into his own fist. He cried with the sensation of it, his other hand rubbing his pert nipples and caressing his chest and belly and thighs before he angled up his knees and had both hands between his legs, stroking his erection while fondling his balls.

There was an itch there, the heat coiling so intensely he thought he might pass out from it. Worse yet, the heat and the itch went deeper, but no matter how much he rubbed his asshole, it wouldn’t go away. Biting his lips until he tasted copper, Clint kept on jerking off violently, mad with the urge to fuck and be fucked, his every sense occupied with the sweet smell sticking to his skin, his thoughts filled with Fenton, Fenton, _Fenton_ -

He came roughly, violently, screaming as he shot his cum. But still his hands moved, still the heat went rampant in his body, so he came again, and again, until it finally subsided. The whole room was filled with the stench of his sweat and cum when Clint finally cooled off and succumbed to his exhaustion, too tired to try and figure out what had happened to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **You're welcome to leave prompts and suggestions in my Idea Collection. ☺**
> 
> Prompted by Tatsuya/EtherealKnight21 on Discord!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm back. Had some fun times irl (/s). Hope you've all been well and kept yourselves healthy!

Clint woke up slowly, feeling vaguely sticky. For a few, blissful moments, he’d quite forgotten about the previous day, but then he remembered and with a startled yelp, he sat up.

He’d fallen asleep on top of his covers, naked but for his socks. Two things he noticed immediately: His belly and chest were both speckled with crusted cum and Fenton was in the room, curled up on the floor next to the bed, still sleeping with a soft snore.

Feeling beyond embarrassed, Clint searched for something to hastily put on. His boxers were at the edge of his bed - he’d just kicked them off the day before, eager to get his hands on his cock. Shivering a bit, he felt for his forehead, but the fever was gone.

There was still a vague, sweet smell clinging to him, though, so he pulled up his boxers and stood up, trying to be quiet enough not to wake his Mega Garchomp.

First things first, though - get some fresh clothes and make it to the bathroom. He yearned for a hot shower to drown himself, or at least to scrub his skin clean. He reckoned that whatever effect Salazzle had on him yesterday, it had taken its course when he’d masturbated. Still, it was all more than humiliating, especially with Fenton witnessing all of it. Poor boy - he’d fought off all those Pokemon that tried to get to him, only for Clint to nearly assaulting him himself!

Cringing at the memories of kissing and nuzzling against Fenton’s strong chest, Clint cursed when the mere thought of it had his cock twitch, heat pooling in his belly. He changed the water temperature to cold and yelped under it, but it did the trick, killing off his arousal before it could take proper hold. He’d already given in yesterday - under the influence of that weird attack, yes, but it still counted, right?

He’d fantasized about Fenton all the same, hazy and feverish. All he could hope for was that Fenton hadn’t noticed too much. Maybe it had been dark already when the Mega Garchomp had joined him in his bedroom.

They would need to have words about sneaking in, Clint thought. But before that…

The thought of telling someone, anyone, about what happened yesterday was just as bad as finding Fenton in his room this morning. It was beyond awkward and Clint didn’t look forward to it. But he couldn’t help but feel a bit afraid - what if it happened again? There was still a bit of that faint, sweet smell on his skin that the shower hadn’t washed off. Rubbing himself dry didn’t help either.

He could try it with the local Nurse Joy. Or go and see an actual doctor, although Clint doubted that they would know what to do with him. His best bet would be going to Sandgem Town and ask Professor Rowan for help. Whatever had happened to him that caused both the fever and the attention of wild Pokemon had been caused by the Salazzle’s attack, after all.

A scratching noise pulled Clint out of his thoughts and he flinched, looking towards the closed bathroom door. Checking the clock he nearly groaned and went for his clothes, hastily putting them on. He’d spend too much time brooding and washing up - it was almost noon and he hadn’t yet fed his Pokemon.

“Sorry, sorry,” he breathed as he opened the door, coming face to face with Fenton. The sight of his Pokemon had him hesitate for a moment before Clint tried a smile, still feeling ashamed and guilty but trying to swallow it down. “Are you hungry?”

“Garchomp,” Fenton grumbled, looking a bit exasperated but also worried. Nudging Clint, the big Pokemon let out a humming noise before turning around and heading towards the kitchen. No other of his Pokemon were waiting outside the bathroom, which gave Clint another pause.

Usually, he’d have been mobbed by now by his hungry friends, but the corridor was empty all the way down to the living room and kitchen.

“Where are the others, Fenton?” Clint asked faintly, ignoring his own grumbling stomach. Biting his lips, he met his Pokemon’s eyes and watched Fenton shake his head in agitation. Then the Garchomp huffed and gave a low bellow, almost annoyed.

Not at him, Clint noticed, and followed Fenton’s gaze until he saw his blue-shelled Grotle and his reddish Combee peeking out from behind a couch. The two seemed wary of him, which had Clint suck in a sharp breath.

“Why are you hiding?” he asked and received a stressed buzz from Combee. His Grotle simply ducked away again. “Fenton?”

The Mega Garchomp huffed again before coming closer, giving Clint a sniff and a shudder, which was more than enough for the man to understand - the scent still affected Pokemon. _His_ Pokemon.

“Fuck,” Clint said and closed his eyes for a moment. He could feel Fenton shift closer and despite anything, Clint felt a measure of relief when he could lean against Fenton’s chest and breath in the familiar scent. “I’ll- I’ll get out the food and then I’ll go to Sandgem Town. Maybe they can help with this.”

“Garchomp,” Fenton rumbled. At least the arousal Clint felt was the kind he’d gotten used to, over the years, not the _fever-want-desperation_ he’d experienced yesterday. It was enough to jolt Clint into action, however, stepping away from Fenton.

“You feel it too, yes?” Clint asked his Garchomp and received a solemn nod. “And you still come close. Fenton…” Something was lodged in his throat and Clint was just so damn grateful. Which, in turn, made his guilt so much worse. “Sorry for yesterday. And thank you, for keeping me safe. I’m sure Professor Rowan can help me out.”

He smiled and received a fond rumble that helped Clint to keep his spirits up. He hurried through breakfast after feeding his Pokemon (most of them having fled to the garden, keeping their distance until Clint was back inside). It seemed that whatever attracted the wild Pokemon did the same to his, only that his friends did their best to avoid him instead of attacking him.

Not Fenton, though. Fenton kept close, even growling when his spring-green Marill approached, which startled her enough to snap out of it again. Was Fenton less affected by the Salazzle’s attack? If yes, then why?

(Some part of Clint hated that. Some small, selfish part wished for Fenton to react the same way as any other Pokemon, to approach him with clear interest if only so that Clint could finally act on his feelings. The rest of Clint was disgusted by these thoughts and thankful that his friend didn’t suffer from it.)

“Let’s get going, Fenton. The sooner we know what the Salazzle did to me, the better.”

\---

“Well,” Professor Rowan said, a worried look on his aged face. They were alone in a small side room, as far away from any Pokemon running around in the Professor’s laboratory. “She definitely got you with Sweet Scent, but it’s somehow a lot stronger than usual. She must’ve been in heat.”

Clint felt himself blushing, the floor drawing his eyes in embarrassment. Fenton, still out of his Pokeball to protect him, shuffled closer and huffed. “Isn’t there something to get rid of it? Fenton had to fight off a lot of Pokemon on our way here and my own at home are stressed out by it!”

“Usually, a good shower would be all you need. But…” Rowan shook his head and showed him the test results again. “It’s in your skin,” he said. Clint leant forward, but he couldn’t make out any of the numbers. “Even deeper. It’s not only affecting the Pokemon around you, but it affects you. From what you’ve said, you seem to have been in a heat-like condition yesterday, so we have to assume this’ll hold for at least a few days longer. A grown Salazzle’s heat goes for about three to five nights, and-”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Clint yelped and held his hands up, panic heavy in his chest. “What do you mean? I’ll get like, like _that_ again?”

“From the evening until early mornings, yes,” the Professor said with a grimace.

“But can’t you do anything about it?”

Again he shook his head. “It’s extremely dangerous to tamper with it, I’m afraid. It’s affecting your hormones and other internal processes. There’s simply no time. Now, if you have a willing partner, maybe a wife, I would suggest you keep sexually active during the worst of it. Heat pains can become a problem…”

Clint stopped listening to the elderly man after that, head dizzy with what he’d heard. Heat pains? At least two more nights like this? And what was that about, too dangerous to do something? What should he do if it didn’t stop? What if it’s permanent?

He didn’t notice his shaking hands until Fenton leant against him, arms carefully wrapping around Clint’s body. He snapped out of his thoughts, wide eyes meeting the Professor’s, who was watching them.

“I’m sorry,” Clint said as he tried to keep his calm. “It’s just- it’s a bit much. Are you _sure_ it’ll go away?”

Professor Rowan hesitated before he put the papers away. “Mostly,” he then said and Clint’s breath caught on a lump in his throat. “But if it takes longer than five days, we’ll have enough time to search for a cure. That’s why we took your blood and other samples, it’s only that anything we could develop from it wouldn’t be anywhere near ready under a fortnight.”

“So… three to fourteen days, you say,” Clint said slowly. He took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. “Okay. Okay, I can do this. But I’ll have to send you my Pokemon.” Fenton’s arms around him tensed. “Not you, don’t worry,” Clint murmured.

“That’s alright. I can prepare some space for them, just send them over the PC.” Professor Rowan stood up and smiled at him, but it didn’t chase the worry away. “I’ll have an assistant drive you back home so you won’t get in trouble. Now, during the day I want you to eat and drink plenty - I reckon by early evening you won’t be able to do much anymore.” His eyes cut towards Fenton, who still hovered protectively. “You need to look out for him, yes?”

“Garchomp,” Fenton growled and ducked his head, nuzzling Clint’s hair from behind.

\---

The heat hit Clint around six in the evening, the house empty besides him and Fenton. Just as the day before, it started with a warmth in his belly that quickly spread out throughout his entire body. A few minutes later, a tingle settled low in his stomach, a small electrical jolt going down his loins.

Clint had put himself in bed, the door closed and the key underneath his dresser. He hoped he wouldn’t be able to reach it once this got worse, and had told Fenton to wait outside until morning. He’d not jeopardize their relationship just because now, some strange attack gave him a ready excuse.

But the heat remained, his skin turning weirdly sensitive, his heart beating like a fast drum in his chest. His pyjama bottoms felt rough against his skin and when he tugged on them, Clint hissed as the fabric dragged across his cock.

It was half past six, and he was in his darkened bedroom with a stiff cock, not knowing what to do with it. The Professor had said that sex would help, but what if it only made it worse? Besides, the thought of his own hand tugging his dick didn’t do anything for Clint. He yearned for something else entirely, yearned for strong arms and a broad chest and hot breath on his face, Fenton nuzzling his hair and his tongue dragging across his skin and-

“Fuck,” he hissed and tossed around, trying to ignore the way sweat was beading on his skin. He shouldn’t even think about it, but it was hard not to with his cock throbbing in his pants. The sweet smell that had lingered around him all day was now heavy in the air. Arceus, he wished he’d never tried to catch that damned Salazzle. All he wanted to do was go back in time and turn away from the clearing. He could’ve gone home early with Fenton. Spend some more time with him. Hold him close. Kiss him. Have Fenton kneel before him, his cute wide mouth open and his tongue curling around his co-

With a gasp, Clint was on his back again, hand shoved underneath his pants. He almost yelled when his fingers brushed his cock - that, too, felt far too sensitive, but also _good_ in a way masturbation had never felt. Like soothing an itch, or cooling a burn. Biting his lips, he held himself like that for a few moments before stroking once, twice, a third time. His shaft felt hot underneath his fingers. He wanted someone else to touch him.

He wanted Fenton to fuck him. And he knew, if he could open the door and call for his sweet Garchomp, it would probably happen. It would be so easy, too - just get the key and open the door and let the Sweet Scent do the rest. Fenton would like it, too, right?

 _And what if not?_ The sudden thought pulled him right out of his fantasy, hand clenched around his cock. _He’ll hate me if he doesn’t like it._

“What am I doing,” Clint whispered to the ceiling, tears welling in his eyes from the frustration he felt. But it didn’t help with anything - already, his muscles started to ache, hands trembling with need, toes curling as the heat grew worse. Pains, Professor Rowan had said. He’d been right, it was painful. He felt too hot, too empty, too deprived. Like an addict who’d missed the last five shots and needed his fix _now_.

Clint wanted to call for Fenton so badly. Wanted to, but couldn’t. That much was left of his integrity, despite being a sweating, horny mess. “Fuck!” he yelled instead and groaned as he tried to jerk off again.

It didn’t help one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **You're welcome to leave prompts and suggestions in my Idea Collection. ☺**


End file.
